


serenity

by acesblindeyes



Category: Bastille (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, he seems like a cuddler, i need to hug him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 13:00:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6855751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/acesblindeyes/pseuds/acesblindeyes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He understands you in away no one else does.</p>
            </blockquote>





	serenity

**Author's Note:**

> enjoy this piece of crap <3

Today was not a good day, to say the least.

You had started out with waking up late and then burning your oatmeal. _Who the fuck burns oatmeal?_  

 You had no time to waste on your appearance, forgetting to even put in your contacts.You glared at your sleeping boyfriend, who was still in bed. It did not help. His serene expression, soft body, stubbly cheeks and wild hair made you want to jump right back into bed and sleep for hours.

 But you couldn’t do that. You had work.

 Groaning, you picked up your purse and walked to the front door to find some shoes.

 Of course, the only shoes that you could find were four inch heels that you had worn _once_. And that was to a wedding. Three years ago.

 Sighing, you put them on, wobbling a bit as you attempted to walk to the door. Your feet would hate you.

 This was going to be a _long_ day.

* * *

Work was awful. You’re pretty sure your boss was out to get you. And, to make matters worse, you had gotten your period and had to use one of those cardboard contraptions.

 It was not pleasant.

 With the addition of your not-perfect vision and your lack of contacts or glasses, you were forced to squint at your laptop and try to type. One single key at a time, like a fucking chicken.

 But after hours of that blurry torture, you made your way home, heels clicking on the pavement, your feet blistering with every step.

 You stumble up the steps to your flat, purse swinging and hitting your hip painfully every time you step up. Your foot slips, and you hobble to regain your balance, the torture devices on your feet not making it any easier. Your foot twists, and your vision gets even more blurry as tears gather in your eyes.

  _Fuck._

 You let yourself calm down a bit before sitting on the steps to take the stupid heels off.

 Now limping, you make it to your door, heels in on hand and the other searching blindly in your purse to find your keys. You lift them out successfully, squinting, then you drop them on the ground.  With the poor lighting in front of your flat and your poor eyesight, you can’t see them. Frustrated tears build up, _again_.

 Once you fish out your phone and use it as a flashlight, you find your keys and fumble around to open the door, locking it behind you and sighing as you do.

  _Finally_.

 You’re really hoping Dan is home, that maybe he even cooked dinner. You could go for a nice, warm meal with a person who you don't have to act fake with.

 No such luck.

 You drop your heels on the floor, along with your purse and coat, and find your glasses waiting for you on the table. You see a note on the table, and scan it quickly.

  _At the studio, be back home soon! -Dan_

 Damn it, Dan. You miss your human security blanket. You limp back into the kitchen, grimacing slightly at the pain.

 You set out some canned tomatoes to make a sauce for some pasta. You can manage this without messing it up.  _Right_?

 You manage to open the cans and cut your hand. (Of course you do.)

 You’re not sure if it was the pain in your leg, the cut, or just everything leading up to this moment, but you start crying. Full-on bawling over a tiny fucking cut on your hands. You grasp the hand in the other and slowly sink to the floor, the pain in your foot becoming more than a dull throbbing as you lean your weight on it.

 You barely hear the door unlocking, it opening, barely hear those familiar footsteps walking towards you and stopping before they stumble in a rush to the kitchen.

“Oh no,” Dan mumbles, sitting down and embracing you, bringing your body closer to his, your face to his shoulder. “What happened?” 

The gentleness and caution in his voice makes you sob even harder.

“I cut my hand on the can,” you manage to blubber out.  _What the fuck are you, a baby?_

 Dan helps you up while you’re still crying, putting his arm around you to grasp your waist when he notices your limp. He sits you on the bed while you take off your pants, and he hands you his sweatpants and huge shirt and watches in concern as you put them on, hand still bleeding. He then takes care of your hand with that same gentleness as before, you watching his steady hands as you try to calm down.

 After that’s been taken care of, Dan lays down next to you, turning his body to face you and reaching out and wrapping his arms around you, as if protecting you. His firm grip loosens a bit as your breathing slows down a bit, and you sniffle.

“What happened?” he asked carefully, as if worried that might cause the dam to break again.

“It’s stupid,” you say, hiding your face from him in his chest.

You feel the rumble of his voice as he says, “No, it’s not.”

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah.”

“I burnt my _fucking oatmeal_ this morning,” you pause as you hear him chuckle, his chest vibrating. “Then I had to wear heels all day and twisted my ankle or something. Then I tried to make dinner but I cut myself. And then I started crying."

 It barely seems like a big deal now, you think. You're wrapped up in his arms, pressed against his warm body, so how could anything else matter? 

"See, I told you it was stupid,” you tell him, hearing his heartbeat echo in you ears.  _Ba-dum. Ba-dum._

 You feel him kiss your forehead, stubble slightly scratching. “It’s not stupid to me.”

 You shift so you’re completely enveloped in his arms, closing your eyes and breathing in with him.

 It’s strange how he makes you feel like you’re at complete peace. The butterflies you once had were gone, replaced by familiarity and intimacy, and a sense of calmness whenever you’re near him. He really has become your human security blanket, the first person you go to when you need to talk. He understands you in a way no one else does.

 He makes you feel serene.


End file.
